


Welcome to Baskerville

by Lola_Rose_Robins



Category: Sherlock (TV), Supernatural
Genre: Angels, Aspec Friendly, Attempt at Humor, Canon Divergence - The Hounds of Baskerville, Castiel and Gabriel are Siblings (Supernatural), Dean Winchester and Sam Winchester are Siblings, Episode: s02e02 The Hounds of Baskerville, Gen, Hellhounds, Not Beta Read, Sherlock Holmes book, not sure about the plot, slightly chaotic, written by the ghost that possesses me sometimes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:41:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26569714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lola_Rose_Robins/pseuds/Lola_Rose_Robins
Summary: I'm horrible at summaries, but here goes.Sherlock and John finally find a case after a long period of boredom. Hellhounds in Dartmoor (still cannot figure out if it's 'in' or 'on' the Dartmoor, btw, so I'm sorry).The Winchesters, accompanied by Castiel and Gabriel, are bored as they hang around in England and decide to go on a trip to the Dartmoor, where there is an alleged hellhound stalking the area at night.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Castiel & Gabriel & Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Castiel & Gabriel (Supernatural), Sherlock Holmes & John Watson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	Welcome to Baskerville

**Author's Note:**

> slight tw: there's some mention of depression and/or suicide and some death, I tried to keep it at a minimum, but it was already in the episode so it's hard to completely avoid it. Stay safe please. 
> 
> I hope you like my writing style of 'Bad Writing - Good Writing - Repeat until finished'
> 
> All jokes aside, I do hope at least one person out there likes this story (somebody must, right).
> 
> I was going to write out more of the actual plot, but then I realised that if I started rewatching the episode, I would lose the Hyperfocus and never be able to finish this again.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

The door opened and the sound of wood on wood prompted John to look up from his newspaper.

‘Oh dear god’, said the voice in his head.

There was Sherlock, covered in blood and holding some type of spear. He didn’t look scared or shocked, to him, this was just another day.

“Well that was tedious…”

Really just another day.

“You went on the tube like that?”

“None of the cabs would take me.”

——

Sherlock was bored. He paced around the room, still holding the harpoon in his hands. At least he was no longer covered in blood now.

There were no new cases to work on in the papers, nothing to do, eventually he even tried turning to drugs, which John obviously refused.

“Yoo-hoo!” Ms. Hudson came walking into the room just as Sherlock was digging around in the fireplace for his secret supply.

——

Ms. Hudson’s distressed voice, followed by her leaving the room caught John’s attention again.

“Go after her, and apologise!”

Oh boy, Sherlock was really doing bad, wasn’t he?

——

“It’s not in the rules.”

“Well then the rules, ARE WRONG!”

_Ring_

Silence falls in the room as the sound of the doorbell disturbs their Cluedo-argument.

“A single ring,” John notes.

“Maximum pressure just under the half second,” Sherlock one-upped him (as he always does).

They came to their conclusion in unison, “Client.”

**Dartmoor**

John and Sherlock arrived in Dartmoor. Henry, their client, had told them an outrageous story about a “hellhound” killing his father. He had told them it was huge, with coal-black fur and red eyes.

The car drive was long, and John had spent most of it looking out at the (beautiful) landscape.

——

——

“Anything?”

“No, Dean. There was nothing two minutes ago, there is nothing now. Stop asking!”

“How much longer do we have to stay in this goddamn country‽”

Sam sighed, got up and started walking towards the tiny kitchen of their room.

“Well, Dean. It’s like Cas said, he has to run some errands around here and when he’s done we can all go home together. Until then, we,” he presses the book he had been holding against his brother’s chest as he walks past him, “are on vacation.”

Dean groans loudly to show his annoyance with the situation and looks down at the book Sam had given him.

“Sherlock Holmes. Really?”

“They’re good, Dean. You should try it.” Sam’s voice came from behind him.

“Fine,” Dean sighed again, before muttering under his breath, “Bitch.” Right at that moment Sam walked past him again.

“Jerk.” Came his brother’s response as he sat down with his cup of tea. Dean smirked a little at this exchange of niceties, before casting his eyes down onto the pages of his book.

The two of them sat in silence for a good two hours. Sam was just typing away on his laptop as Dean read and, completely against his will, really started liking the story.

Even when Dean moved over from the uncomfortable wooded chair, to the couch where Sam was, his eyes did not leave the paper. His mind only had enough time to allow his mouth to mutter, “Move, bitch.” Before fully returning its attention to the book again.

After yet another hour of silence, Castiel finally appeared in the room, soon followed by Gabriel, who shamelessly draped himself over both the brother’s laps. Sam and Dean just silently lifted their book and laptop to accommodate the angel, before lowering them again, now resting on top of their friend.

Castiel moves over to the chair across from them and sits down, observing his family as they hang out on the couch.

“So how’d your day go?” Dean suddenly asks him, finally taking his eyes off the paper and moving his focus over to Cas’ eyes. They could have held this conversation like that, through eye contact, but it would probably only lead to more teasing from their brothers, so out loud it is then.

“It was alright. We visited another Earth-bound angel who lives in the area…”

“Yeah, speaking of! We got you something, Samsquatch!” Gabriel called out. He pulled out a bag from somewhere and took out a rather old-looking book, which he handed to Sam.

Sam put his laptop aside and accepted the book, turning it over in his hands a few times. It looked like an old hunter’s journal, most of the entries written in languages Sam knew for sure were no longer in use. The main focus, however, seemed to be the slightly inappropriate sketches of creatures that filled almost all of the pages.

“Thanks, guys. This is amazing. Some of these monsters I’ve never even heard of!”

Gabriel turned to his little brother and grinned, “See, I told you he’d love it.”

Cas sighed, “Yes, you did.”

“So what now?” Dean asked. He had finished the book and was now bored again, he felt the need to do something active, to get out of the hotel.

“Well,” Sam said, as he grabbed his laptop again, “There’s this place nearby, called Dartmoor. They have this local legend, complete tourist attraction of course. And get this, they say there’s a hellhound lurking around in the area.”

Dean shot up, nearly causing Gabriel to fall to the floor if it hadn’t been for Sam grabbing his arm. “Why didn’t you say that before?!”

“Because you were busy actually reading a book that isn’t related to hunting for once. And besides, I doubt that it’s an actual hellhound.”

“What makes you say that?” Cas asked.

“Well, first of all. Hellhounds don’t generally stay in the same area for 20+ years. And secondly, there’s this military base in the area where they supposedly do experiments with genetically mutating animals and plants. So it’s probably just some buff dog or something.”

Both of the angels looked slightly shocked at the idea of mutating perfectly good creatures, but the shock soon went away as they realised that these were humans they were dealing with.

“Well, it’s worth a shot anyway. We’ve gone on less.” Dean stated.

“And even if it’s nothing, it still sounds like a fun day.” Sam added.

With that, the four of them got up and packed some supplies into a bag, before leaving the room. At first, Castiel wanted to zap them over to Dartmoor, but Dean just shushed him andled him over to the Impala (which he was eternally grateful to Castiel to have zapped over for him).

With the two Winchesters in the front and the angels in the back, the Impala left the parking lot and started its journey to Dartmoor.

Castiel sat grumbling in the backseat for a while. The car was so horridly slow, they could have been there already! But eventually he gave in and finally started noticing the world outside. He had to admit it was quite beautiful. He looked around the car. Everyone was staring out the side windows, except for Dean, who was way too focussed on staying in the correct lane. He had made the mistake of driving on the right side before and would never make it again. Castiel smiled a little at the memory of the near-crash they had experienced three days prior.

Suddenly Gabriel poked him in his side and leaned in, “You’re staring again, Cassie..”, he whispered in a slightly teasing tone, correction, in a very teasing tone. Cas didn’t reply and instead just slapped his brother’s chest with the back of his hand and started staring out the window again. He could hear Gabriel giggling softly, but refused to pay any more attention to him. It’d only make things worse, he had learned that the hard way.

Castiel was no longer looking out at the moors, but instead faced a tall cobblestone wall, as the Impala had pulled into a parking spot in a quaint little town.

The two men and their angel friends got out of the car and started looking around for a place to go. The sign warning people of the presence of a hellhound seemed like a good place to start. There was even a tour guide, telling the story of the hellhound and warning people to stay off the moor at night ‘if you value your lives’.

Sam noticed two men walking away from the group, normally this would not have been weird, but they looked very out of place, at least the tall one in the long black coat did, and the shorter one just looked out of place by association. It was not something he had to worry about now, so he returned his attention to the story.

The tour led them to a small museum. It seemed interesting enough, so they paid for some tickets and went inside. The place was filled with books and pictures of the so-called hellhound. Sam naturally took a long time to get through the books section, but since they had nowhere else to go, they let him take his time as the three of them sat down on a bench. For whatever reason, Gabe decided he didn’t want to sit at the edge of the bench, so he scooted over towards the middle, causing Cas and Dean to have to sit even closer together. Cas just glared at him shortly, but didn’t protest.

In front of them was a huge mural, it covered almost the entire wall. It depicted a forest, with some rocks and cliffs and caves. A thick fog crept along the ground. It was beautifully crafted.

Something had caught Cas’ eye, because he suddenly got up and moved closer to the painting. He turned around slightly to face Gabriel and Dean and he grinned as he pointed at what he had found. There was a large black dog painted in front of a cave, almost completely obscured by fog and shadows. Its red eyes were the only thing that truly gave away its position.

“Oh look! Little Cassie finally found creepy, furry Waldo.” Gabriel joked. Castiel glared at him again, but didn’t protest.

Dean felt a shiver go down his spine as he stared deep into the painted red eyes, painted, not real. He had to keep reminding himself that. He had to give it to the artist, they had perfectly captured the creepy vibes.

At this point, Sam had finally finished looking at all the books and rejoined the group. They moved on to the next room, which was filled with pop-culture portrayals of hellhounds. Dean speed walked behind them, still feeling like the red eyes were staring deep into his soul. _No eyes on my soul please, private business, for my eyes only._

**Investigation**

“This Baskerville place seems like a good place to start. Whatever it is, all signs say it has something to do with the whole, situation.”

This time, Dean agreed to let Cas zap them over, but only because he didn’t want Baby to get damaged, since they were actually going to attempt to break into a military base. They don’t immediately go inside, but instead appear in the bushes near the front entrance. They look around for a bit; it doesn’t seem to be too heavily guarded, but looks can be deceiving. They’re about to go inside when the doors open and two men come walking out. Sam immediately recognises them as the men he saw that very afternoon and alerts the rest of their group. “If those two were inside the base, that means that they have credentials. If we could get ahold of those, it might be easier to get into the base without getting in trouble.”

The logic is solid, so they start to slowly follow the two men, who seem to be unaware of their presence.

When they’re certain that they are out of sight and out of earshot from the base, Sam walks onto the road and slowly, stealthily approaches the two men. He silently lifts the branch he was holding, ready to strike, when the taller of the two suddenly speaks up; “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

The shorter one turns around, obviously shocked to find someone standing there, even more shocked to find that person to be ready to attack them. Sam, unsure of what to do, slowly lowers the branch. The black haired man turns around to face him, giving him a quick once-over. Sam tilts his head slightly in confusion, something he might have picked up from Cas.

The taller man speaks up again, “And who may you be?”

“Uh…Sam.”

“I see.” The man appears to be getting lost in his head, his eyes making small movements in different directions, as if he is looking at something on a large screen. Sam glances at the shorter man with a questioning look in his eyes, the shorter man just shrugs.

“American,” the taller man speaks again, back from his mental adventure, “probably don’t have a very steady income, from the worn clothes. Possibly a lumberjack? No, the wear on those pants suggests long car rides and the wear on that flannel doesn’t suggest a lot of axe-slinging, though there is some involved. Maybe a trucker? Or a mechanic?” The man paces around a little as he rambles on. His shorter friend has crossed his arms and looks prepared to be standing here for a while, “Or maybe…a hunter!” The man reads Sam’s reaction, because he now moves on from the profession. “So a travelling hunter. Judging from the eyes, been through something traumatising.” He moves closer and sniffs. It’s kind of weird, but living with Castiel, Sam’s weirdly used to being sniffed on occasion. “Very specific smell, old car. Interesting, very interesting. By the way, your friends can come out now.” This catches both Sam and the short man off guard. Sam motions to the others, and one by one they come crawling out of the bushes and onto the road.

The tall man rambles for a bit about cuffed jeans and neglectful parents, before clapping his hands together and turning to face them all. “So, tell me. What are some random American hunters doing here in England, attacking people on the roads near military bases?”

What do you answer to that question? They could go with the truth of course, but that would either earn them a punch in the face or a one way ticket into a mental hospital. Or they could lie, but no lies could possibly help them out of this situation. They’ve really painted themselves into a corner here.

Castiel is the first to speak up, “Well, we heard there was a hellhound nearby and we wanted to go into the Baskerville base to see if we could find it, to kill it.” The sentence was out there before Dean even had a chance to stop his friend from talking.

The silence lasted for a few seconds, but to Sam and Dean it felt like hours.

“I see. Well, there is no need to go in there. We just came back from our own investigation, there is no hellhound in that base, so we will all have to take our business elsewhere.” The taller man seemed unbothered by their strange explanation.

“Wait, you’re hunters?” Sam asks them.

“What, no! We’re investigators. Consulting detectives actually.”

“Oh.”

“Would you like to join us back in town? Or can we at least get moving? It’s getting quite cold out here.” The short man pipes up.

Everyone agrees that is is indeed getting cold, so they start walking. The two men apparently came here in a black jeep, so at least they don’t have to walk all the way back. It is a tight fit, with the four of them on the back seat, but they make it work.

——

The six men sit around the table in some small-town pub. It’s a quiet night, so they can freely discuss the case of the Baskerville hellhounds. They are also joined by another, rather scrawny looking guy, who tells them about a dream he had, which involved the words ‘Liberty’ and ‘In’. After they had all exchanged stories and points of view, the brits leave the pub, leaving the Winchesters behind to drink some more and discuss plans.

The next day, at a local Inn, the Winchesters (not including the angels, because they are off at the bar drinking and chatting) run into the two brits again. One of them, the taller one, seems a bit shaken, as his friend is comforting him. He doesn’t seem to react well to this, as he lashes out in anger.

The Winchesters move over to the table and sit down, completely shameless.

“Hey guys, you alright?”

“We’re fine.” The black-haired man snarls.

“Hey listen, we never quite caught your names. And if we’re going to be working together, just seems like an important step.” Sam says, and Dean nods, fully agreeing with his brother.

“Working toge-“

“I’m John, John Watson. And this is my friend, Sherlock.”

Dean is quiet for a second as his brain processes this information, then a laugh starts deep in his throat and soon his whole body shakes along, “Yeah, right. And I’m the tooth fairy.”

The man-who-calls-himself-John actually looks slightly offended by this. So Sam jumps in to save the day,

“I think what my brother is _trying_ to say, is that that would be impossible. Unless you guys are actually named after the characters and just decided on the same career paths, which is entirely possible.”

“Characters?” ‘John’ asks, not understanding.

“Yeah…from the books? By Arthur Conan Doyle?”

John just shakes his head, never heard of it. Neither has Sherlock. Strange.

Sam taps his brother on the shoulder and they both turn away to discuss in private.

“You think they’re lying? Or insane?” Dean starts.

“Maybe. But, Dean, doesn’t this feel kind of familiar?”

Dean stares at his brother with questioning eyes.

“The Supernatural books, Chuck Shurley, all that?”

There, now he gets it.

The brothers turn back towards the table.

“Alright, say we believe you. What’s the plan?”

“Well, we went to the hollow last night and saw the hound, it was there, creepy fog and everything. So I guess the next step would be to figure out how to get rid of it.” John says, since Sherlock is too stubborn to admit to seeing an actual supernatural being.

“Don’t worry, I think we’ve got that covered.”

“Alright then. I think we should go and talk with Henry’s therapist, get some more information.” John says, getting up and gently pulling Sherlock up to his feet and handing him his coat.

“Good idea, maybe she knows something about why the hound is following him.”

The Winchesters get their angels, and together they leave the Inn and head to the therapists office. Along the way they swing by the Impala to change into some more professional-looking suits. This earns them an intrigued look from Sherlock, and a concerned one from John. What were they getting themselves into, who are these guys?

——

“Good afternoon. Louise Mortimer, therapist.” The woman, Henry’s therapist, holds out her hand. John shakes it and replies: “John Watson, ehm, confirmed Bachelor (?)”

Not surprisingly, the use of this term causes Gabriel to raise an eyebrow, surprisingly both Castiel and Dean also raise eyebrows. Sam just felt left out and decided to join the trend.

They leave John and Sam to do the interview as the others go back to the Winchester’s hotel to look through some lore (yes, they are dragging Sherlock along).

——

The next morning, John wakes up with a start.

“It’s an acronym! Of course, how did I not see it before.”

“Okay, Sherl, Calm down.”

The two of them waltz through town and into the inn to investigate something John had noticed the day before. On the way, they run into Lestrade.

“What are you doing here?”

“Mycroft sent me, told me to keep an eye on him.” Lestrade replied as he nodded towards Sherlock.

“That’s outrageous, a babysitter‽ Can you believe it?”

John and Lestrade just give him a double bitchface, and for once, Sherlocks shuts up at the appropriate time.

——

That night, the Winchesters and their angels go out onto the moor by themselves. Their associates probably would not fare well in this situation, killing an actual hellhound, that is. Especially not now that someone had sent an actual DI over to babysit Sherlock. They weren’t in the US right now, obviously, but who knows how far along their reputation, and most importantly their mugshots, had made it. No, they were going to have to do this by themselves, as they always did and always had done.

Before long, they find themselves at the Hollow. The creepy atmosphere is definitely there, creepy mist and everything. But no sign of the hound yet.

A sudden, low growl to the right startles them, but they quickly adapt and get into position. The hound circles them, slowly getting closer and closer. Then it does something that astounds both the brothers and the angels; it crosses the salt line, no hesitation, no burning, nothing. It seems to be heading straight for Dean, who prepares himself, holding his blade in front of him, but just as the hound launches itself towards its prey, Castiel steps in front of Dean, fully intent on smiting the creature right then and there. To be fair, Cas does get a good stab in, but the hound just tosses him aside like he’s nothing. Sam springs into action, but Gabriel reaches the hound before him, stabbing his blade right into its skull. This should have killed it, but the hound shakes its head and snarled like nothing happened.

Gabriel realises that this isn’t going to work so he grabs Sam and Dean and zaps them back to the hotel before quickly returning to grab an unconscious Castiel and bring him back too.

“Well…that didn’t go exactly as planned.”

“No shit, Sherlock..ehm, I mean…you know what I meant!”

Sherlock was not, in fact, present in the Winchester’s hotel room, but was instead in his own room, putting the pieces of the puzzle together in his mind, while John just sat there, waiting for his friend to spring back to life with some outrageous theory. Lestrade was there too, sipping his tea and reading a paper. They hadn’t told him the full extend of the case yet, but he knew enough. So when John joined him at the table, he quietly whispered to him, “Is he alright? Like, mentally? Is he…did he go…?”

“I don’t know.”

They both glanced over at their friend as he sat wrapped up in a hideous yellow blanket, staring into nothingness and softly muttering to himself. They concluded that this was normal and went back to their tea and newspapers.

——

“Well, there seem to be more and more of us every day.” Gabriel stated as everyone came together at the Winchester’s hotel.

They had decided to risk meeting this detective guy, but were slightly reluctant to let him into their weapon-filled room. Naturally, Sherlock just pushed the Winchesters aside and stepped into the room, followed by John Watson and Greg Lestrade.

It sure was a sight. The table was covered with gun-parts, since Dean had been cleaning them, and a collection of knives and blades lay on the beds (except for the one that was occupied by Castiel). The painted sigil surrounded by lit candles and a nearby bowl of blood were just a finishing touch.

“It’s not what it looks like-“ Dean starts. He then looks around the room, at his brother and the angels, before turning back to their visitors…”well..I don’t- I don’t have a good explanation for this, but you’ll just have to trust us.”

John and Lestrade took one good look around at the weapons, sigils, candles and the unconscious man (Castiel) on the bed. It wasn’t a good look. “Trust you‽” John yelped.

“Yeah, what the hell is this shit?”

“They’re weapons.”

“Yeah I can see that! What’s this?” Lestrade gestured wildly at the whole sigil-surrounded-by-candles-and-bowl-of-blood-business going on on the floor.

“Oh, we were just gonna….summon someone…”

“Who the hell were you thinking of summoning here?”

“The king…of hell…”

No one really had a reply to that one. Everyone just awkwardly stared at each other, except Castiel, who was still unconscious. Sam took out a lighter and, without breaking eye contact with John, lit it and tossed it into the bowl. The contents of the bowl lit on fire somehow, (it’s blood, how does that burn), followed by Gabriel chanting the incantation.

_Et ad congregandumeos coram me_

When a short man, wearing all black appeared in the middle of the room, John threw his hands in the air and walked out, closely followed by Lestrade. Sherlock stayed behind out of curiosity.

“Hello, boys.” Crowley said in typical Crowley fashion. Raising an eyebrow at the new addition to the group before him.

——

“Yeah, no, that’s not one of ours, can’t even say it is a hellhound, doesn’t really seem like it…For starters, this one’s visible, that’s no hellhound, darlings. Though there is a hellhound scheduled here for tomorrow. Sorry, can’t help you any more, boys.”

“No, it’s fine. Thanks for the info, that’s already helpful enough.”

John and Greg had come back into the room by now, they’d just needed a little air before being able to deal with the king of hell.

They were back to square one. With no hellhound to kill, the Winchesters were at a loss, time for the team of actual “detectives” to take over leadership of the group. Everyone got up and ready to leave, when Gabriel’s voice called for attention, “Where’s Cassie?”

They all looked at the bed that had previously been occupied by an unconscious angel, it was empty now.

John and Sam were the first ones to find Castiel, sitting on the roof of the hotel, feet dangling over the edge, looking up into the night sky.

“Heya, Cas. Watcha doing?” Sam asks as he sits down next to the angel. John sits down behind them, subconsciously grabbing Cas’ trench coat and leaning back slightly, away from the edge.

“On the fourth day, God created the stars, the moon and the sun. On Thursday, on my day.”

“Right. Well, we’re going back to that Baskerville place, so if you want you can join.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean, why? You’re one of us Cas, you belong with the team.”

“I tried to fight one simple hellhound before and was incapacitated for several hours. I do not think you will be needing my help.”

Sam sighed and lifted the angel to his feet. Cas struggled a bit, but eventually Sam had dragged him down to where the others were already waiting.

——

“So it was just a nerve agent?”

“So it would seem.”

“But then why did Crowley say there was a hellhound scheduled for tomorrow?”

“I don’t know man, some rando in town sold their soul coupe a years ago?”

——

It had been a tough night. They had found Henry at the Hollow, holding a gun and had to explain to him the truth of his father’s death, which thankfully worked. They then had to go and find Dr. Frankland, since he’s the one causing all of this trouble. But here they are, finally, at the base, with Frankland in cuffs, ready to be taken elsewhere.

Suddenly, Frankland starts to panic, rambling about hounds, but given the adventure they’d just been on, nobody bats an eye. That is, until Frankland is pulled from their grasp by an invisible force.

The Winchesters just look at each other before Sam grabs their holy glasses and hands a pair to Dean. They look on as Frankland runs off, chased by a hell hound, for real this time.

“Should we, like, do something?” Sam asks.

“Nah.” Dean replies, the guy deserves it.

Gabriel comes to stand in between them and offers some popcorn; Gabe will be Gabe. The brits just look on in horror as the three of them eat popcorn while watching a man go insane, and what’s with those weird glasses? A loud bang turns their attention back to Frankland. He had run into the minefield, which was now obscured by smoke and dust.

A figure emerged from the cloud.

“Heya, Cas.”

“Hello, Dean, Sam.”

They looked down at his hands. Though invisible to the naked eye, all three of them could see the blood covering both his lower arms. One less hell hound to deal with.

Sam placed a hand on Cas’ shoulder and smiled reassuringly.

——

“So, do you guys need a ride back to town?”

“Nah, we got it. See you there.” They watched on as the black jeep drove off towards the town, before all gathering in a circle and joining hands.

They all watched as the black jeep pulled into the empty parking spot next to the Impala. As the three men got out of the Jeep, Cas and Dean slid off their spot on the roof, where they had been laying, looking up at the clouds. They did not miss the shocked looks on the brits’ faces and the two of them grinned at each other as they turned around and started walking to the pub.

The five of them joined the already drunk Sam and Gabriel inside, I mean, they did just watch a man blow up in a minefield, they deserved it.

**Author's Note:**

> basically the whole prompt of this was, "didn't Sherlock have a hellhound episode?" That's all I had and I just started writing. My chaotic brain does things and I just go along with it.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed and were able to follow the storyline, as far as there was one. If there is something I forgot to tag, feel free to tell me.


End file.
